


As Fast As You Can

by likehandlingroses



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Sexism, Sexist Language, as well as discussions of normalized male violence and anger, frank discussions of sexism in the Weasley family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-29
Updated: 2019-08-29
Packaged: 2020-09-29 22:23:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20443538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likehandlingroses/pseuds/likehandlingroses
Summary: Ginny didn’t know how to explain to McGonagall that she wasn’t fighting people because she was angry. She was doing it because she was tired.





	As Fast As You Can

McGonagall looked over her glasses at Ginny, her mouth drawn tight in disapproval. **  
**

“Miss Weasley, you cannot hex every person who provokes your ire...whether they deserve it or not,” she said. “Apart from anything else, such an enterprise would take up most of your day, I’d imagine.”

Perhaps one day, Ginny would find such a remark funny. She’d heard that women cared less as they got older. 

That’ll be nice, she thought. 

“So give me detention,” she said with a shrug. 

“Oh, I’m planning to,” McGonagall said sharply. “But first, I want to know why.”

“I’ve told you. Smith was--”

“--you’ve told me what happened,” McGonagall pressed. “What I want to know is: why do you find it necessary to respond the way that you do to these provocations?”

Ginny very nearly laughed, but that might_ really_ land her in trouble. 

“What am I supposed to do, Professor?” she asked. “Ignore it? Tell a teacher? I’m fifteen years old; there’s a war going on. I’ve got to start learning how to handle things myself.”

She should have known what was coming from the softness that entered McGonagall’s stare. 

“I know it must be difficult,” she said, “growing up with so many older brothers--all of whom are so accomplished--”

“--why is it always about them?” Ginny interrupted, knowing she’d probably pay for her rudeness, but being unable to stand hearing the same tripe as always. “Why is everything--_everything_\--about them and how wonderful they all are?”

If she’d been a boy, Ginny would have been the seventh son. Lucky and powerful. Legendary. 

But she was a girl, and that came with nothing but a lifetime of being outrun. 

“I don’t suppose you had Ron in here after he yelled at Demelza Robins until she cried the other day at Quidditch practice?” she said, her cheeks on fire. 

“I wasn’t informed of any such conflict.” 

“Because Harry’s captain,” Ginny spat out. “And they’re best friends, and both of them would rather be caught dead than rat on each other. That’s how it works, isn’t it? For all of them.”

McGonagall raised an eyebrow. “All of _them_?”

“Boys. Men. They protect each other from any responsibility because they’re the ones in charge of everything.” 

He’d been ready to call her a slut. Her own brother. And she should have told him off for it, should have told him he was a pig, that he was ignorant, that he’d _hurt_ her...but what would that have mattered to him? 

He’d have made a stupid face and acted like she was out of her head, and said of course he had a_ right_ to be upset because she was his _sister_ and what would people _think_…

He felt in his very bones that he was entitled to shout at her and call her ugly names…because he was a _boy_. And she was the girl. And that was that. Forever and ever. 

Her own brother, who she’d known her whole life, who she trusted to understand anything she told him...when it came down to it, he didn’t see her. He saw A Girl. 

What a wretched thing to be. 

It didn’t matter to her who Ron kissed or when, but if he was going to act like a prat....then he could handle a taste--a tiny _taste_\--of what it meant to be her all the time. 

Maybe then he’d shut it. 

“Men have a habit of shielding each other from responsibility, yes,” McGonagall said evenly. “I will be sure to ask Mr. Potter if he needs any assistance keeping his team under control. That does not, however, give you clearance to continue wielding your wand as a weapon in the halls. Is that clear?”

“Sure,” Ginny said. “Sorry.” 

Thankfully, that was the end of it. After one more harsh stare over her spectacles, McGonagall went on with writing her a detention slip, and Ginny strode out of her office, still steaming. 

A weapon...as if she was the one who’d invented the idea...as if a well-placed hex was the only way to inflict your fury on everyone else. _They_ certainly all knew how to do it at the drop of a hat. 

Percy slamming doors so hard the walls of Ginny’s room had shaken...and how frightening he’d sounded, how unlike himself. Her father--her father who was normally soft and mild-mannered--shoving Lucius Malfoy into a bookcase for embarrassing him in front of his family. The twins always joking about how hard Charlie hit them when they made him mad…

Charlie had never hit_ her_, of course. Not his baby _sister_. She was untouchable. Uninteresting. Easily ignored when they all played Quidditch, when they spoke above her at the table and then complained when she talked too much. 

She loved them all; so much that it was difficult to bear, sometimes. Did they realize, she wondered, how often she worried that they didn’t love her? Oh, as A Girl, they adored her. Cherished her. Protected her. But did they love her as a person, did they care about what she could do, what she wanted? 

She doubted that, sometimes. 

She didn’t know how to tell McGonagall that, how to explain to her that she wasn’t really_ angry_. She was tired, and no one--not even the people she loved--had given her a place to rest. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! This work is inspired by Taylor Swift's song "The Man." 
> 
> I will be writing a piece for each song on her new album "Lover," so check back on my author page if you're at all interested in that.


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